Montana Sky
by Abarero
Summary: It was a strange way to spend a vacation, but for some reason- this place, this ranch so far from any city, was a wonderful, albeit unique, place for England to relax. Well, outside fretting over America's entry in a rodeo, that is. USUK


**Montana Sky**

He was woken by the shift in the old mattress, the creak of the bed indicating that the other occupant of it was getting up. Before England even cracked an eye open, a kiss was pressed to his temple.

"Gettin' up to feed the horses. You can stay in bed a bit more if you'd like, 'kay?" America's warm voice murmured somewhere next to England's ear.

Flickering his eyes open, he smiled up at the nation beside him. A few weeks on his Montana ranch always did wonders for America- both physically and mentally. It always let him relax in a way he never could quite manage in the bustle of the cities. And as for his physique- England allowed his eyes to trail down America's bare chest that was slightly tanned- well, it definitely did that quite well.

"I swear, this is one of the few times you get yourself up early," England murmured, absently letting one of his hands trail over America's side.

He chuckled, the ripples of it vibrating down through the skin under England's fingers. "Horses like to eat early. Thankfully, Tony and my whale aren't so picky. See ya when breakfast is fixed then. Fresh eggs and bacon, and I think I might be up to rustling up some flapjacks too."

England took America's hand, turning it over and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "Go get 'em cowboy. I, being as I am still a tad jet lagged, will sleep in a bit more."

"A'right," America said with a smile. He pressed a quick kiss to England's lips before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and padding off in the direction of the shower.

It was going to be a beautiful day, England thought to himself.

"I know you're staring at my butt," the younger nation remarked as he sauntered across the room.

Blushing thoroughly, England yanked the sheet up. "Oh hush up."

America gave his hips a shimmy. "Yee'haw, baby."

Willing down another furious blush, England threw a pillow at him.

* * *

By the time England padded into the kitchen for breakfast, America was clad in his worn blue jeans, his favorite pair of cowboy boots, and a loose plaid shirt. Considering his own attire of khaki slacks and a white collared shirt, England felt even that was a bit overdressed.

"You worried about getting dirt on your nice clothes, hmm?" America taunted, sliding a sizzling plate of bacon across the table to him with a wink.

England rolled his eyes. "I'm quite aware that before I do any 'outdoorsy' activity you will have gotten me into jeans and a more 'western' style shirt."

"That a problem?" He asked around a mouthful of eggs.

England looked around the quaint ranch house kitchen, the smell of home cooking and dust and fresh air surrounding him. "No," he replied quietly. "I don't mind. It's a nice change of pace."

America grinned at that, his fork protruding from his mouth at an angle. "Awesome. We've got a busy day ahead of us pardner, so eat up!"

And knowing what a busy day constituted out here, England did just that.

* * *

America spent the early morning teaching some of the local children how to lasso. England, who had indeed changed his attire, leaned over the wooden fence as he watched the young girls and boys following America's instructions and making their attempts to get their ropes around the posts.

"Now don'tcha get down if you don't get it right away!" America reassured them. "Took me all kinds of practice to get as good as I am."

With an easy twist and flip of the wrist, he effortlessly twirled the rope above his head and sent it securely around the fencepost. The children all applauded and America flashed them a grin.

"Okay, now relax your wrist first. You gotta keep it loose as you start to swing the rope over your head, right to left, …"

England felt the sun beating down on his back and sorely wished he'd taken up America's offer of a cowboy hat to shade him from the heat. It was really no wonder that America always ended up all sweaty- smelling of earth and horses and ropes and hay bales- by the time the afternoon was up. Fanning himself with his hand, he jolted as he felt a hat dropped onto his head.

"Hey there you silly city slicker, that's the way you overheat out here."

Scowling, England swatted at America's hand. "Aren't you too busy to be fussing over me at the moment?"

"Nah," America replied, glancing over his shoulder at the children as they all attempted to get their lassoes going. "I've always got time for fussing over ya, England."

He flushed at that- from the _heat_, he told himself – and shifted the cowboy hat now on his head. Absently, America started twirling his rope again, and England swatted his hand down. "Bloody showoff."

Leaning close, America murmured close to England's lips. "You love it, mister. Can't tell me otherwise. But, actually, I'm saving that showing off for the rodeo tonight."

England groaned. "Oh bollocks, you know how I feel about those."

America shouted out a quick instruction to the students before replying. "I know you find them strangely entertaining."

"Outside the parts where you try to kill yourself in new and idiotic ways for kicks."

"Calf roping isn't that dangerous, you know…"

"It's when you're dealing with the _adult_ bulls that I get worried."

Giving England's hand a quick squeeze where it rested on the fencepost, America smiled. "Luckily I have such a nice boyfriend who tends to all my scrapes, cuts and bruises after I spend a few hours getting thrown off horses and bulls."

And seeing that spark in America's eye, knowing that here he was in his element, England realized that as much as it worried him to see America riding bareback on a bull, it was something that he (for some mad reason) absolutely loved.

"You better go take care of those fence posts with the kids then. Can't have you out of practice for the big event, right?"

America patted England on the shoulder and shot him a wink. "Shall do. You just keep a nice watch on my hat for me, 'kay?"

England shifted the hat on his head again. "All right, I suppose I can manage that."

"Awesome."

With a flourish, America turned back to the children and started going to each of them – one by one- to correct their technique. England felt a smile tug at his lips, feeling not only a bit cooler thanks to the shade of a certain hat, but just pleased to see America so…in his element.

And despite his personal qualms about the dangers of the rodeo events he knew America tended to enter, England knew that he would strangely enjoy the event. The smell of dust and sun and the animals, the horrendously greasy foods they served in the arena- all of it. Plus, he reasoned to himself as America cheered on one child's successful lasso throw, it's not like he couldn't enjoy the barrel racing or calf roping. They were both a bit reckless, yes, but still fairly harmless in the long run.

It was that matter with the bull that England always felt his heart clench up over.

"Alfred, I did it! I did!" A young girl yelled out.

With a wide grin and a twinkle in his eyes, America swept the girl up into a hug. "Awesome! That arm's gonna win some big ole prize money some day, just you wait and see little missy!"

And as America spun her around, he caught England's eye and smiled. It was a strange way to spend a vacation, but for some reason- this place, this ranch so far from any city, was a wonderful, albeit unique, place for England to relax.

He blamed it on America's _Americaness_. And the fact his boyfriend looked quite dashing in chaps. But mostly the _Americaness_. Which well, now that he thought about it, probably included the chaps.

Well. Bollocks.

* * *

"Ow. Ow. Ow," America hissed in a breath through his teeth. "OW! England, watch it!"

England paused, letting his hand with the cloth drop down to his side. He sighed. "Oh come on, you big baby. I don't get how you can manage to survive riding a raging animal bareback for seven seconds, and then whine when I try to mop up all the blood off you."

"Alcohol on a cut stings in a way that is _not_ awesome," America retorted, shifting his crossed arms on the pillow.

Huffing, England looked at the nation lying down on the bed. He was turned face down, his head pillowed on crossed arms, and his bare back was gleaming in the dimmed lantern light. Beside him on the floor rested his favorite cowboy boots, and his cowboy hat was sitting on the end of the bedpost.

With a frown, England turned his attention back to America's scuffed up and bloody back.

"And," he pressed the cloth to another cut and America hissed in pain, "how is getting thrown from a bull 'awesome,' pray tell?"

"Just…" America gritted his teeth as England secured another bandage over a cleaned wound. "Just is. If you'd ever tried it, you'd know. It's an amazing thrill."

"I'll take your word for it," he replied, cleaning another wound from the sweat and the dust. The younger nation's body twitched in pain.

"Englandddd, are you almost done? I'm getting real tired. It's hard work being an awesome cowboy, you know?"

Smiling to himself, England leaned down to press a quick kiss to the last bandage he'd secured. Setting aside all the first aid supplies, England ran a hand down America's back. "You can stop whinging now, I'm quite finished."

At that, America flipped off the lantern and rolled around (wincing as he put pressure on his back's injuries) to pull England into an embrace. "If ya turn around too, you can see the moon out. Night sky's right pretty tonight."

Shifting in his arms until they were both lying facing the window, England felt America's warm breath against his shoulder and his arm creeping around his waist. His eyes drifted to the sky outside and his breath caught in his throat.

"Yeah, beautiful isn't it?" America asked, nuzzling against England's back.

England could see how vibrant the stars looked out here, brilliant lights against the dark navy of the night sky. The surrounding landscape of rolling hills reflected under the moonbeams making it all picture perfect. He let his eyes drift closed a brief moment, recalling another image, as he thought back to how America looked as he rode the bull earlier that night.

His eyes focused, his smile confident but not smug, and at the opening of the gate- the way his body arched and bucked with the undulations of movement. Behind him, the setting sun lit his whole body with orange hues as he tried to hold on for one more- two more – three more – seconds.

The windswept locks of golden hair when his hat fell off, the blue eyes so intent on trying to hold on, the sheen of sweat trickling down his neck; and in that one millisecond when America's gaze captured his own across the arena? He looked simply… beautiful.

So wild and free, just like this western expanse of land that America had made his home along with the bustling cities of the East coast and the expansive plains of the Midwest. That was America- all these little unique places that each brought out something new and amazing about him.

"It's very beautiful, America. All of it."

England rolled back around, pressing a kiss to America's lips and tucking a stray piece of hair behind the younger nation's ear. America gave him a drowsy smile in return.

"I think it's time for some shuteye, cowboy," England quipped.

America grinned, nuzzling their noses together. "Yeah. We've gotta be all rested up for going riding out on the range tomorrow."

"Brilliant," he muttered sarcastically.

"You'll love it, England."

And thinking about how he was going to spend the next day cuddled up behind America on a horse, he felt a tug of a smile at his lips. "You know what? Perhaps I will."

THE END


End file.
